


Because You Are So Dear

by asterismal (asterisms)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Harry Potter uses a dating sim, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22231690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterisms/pseuds/asterismal
Summary: On Hermione's suggestion, Harry agrees to try out the newest virtual dating simulation. The virtual world technology may be new, she tells him, but it's very safe. And anyway, isn't he always complaining about not having any experience?It doesn't hurt that the new sim model, Tom, is just his type.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 20
Kudos: 478
Collections: First Flash Fest of 2020





	Because You Are So Dear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jadejabberwock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadejabberwock/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [jadejabberwock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadejabberwock/pseuds/jadejabberwock) in the [First_Flash_Fest_of_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/First_Flash_Fest_of_2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Signing up for a virtual dating simulation was Hermione's suggestion. It all sounded good to Harry in theory. The virtual world technology was new, but very safe. He always complained about not having the experience to know what to do on dates or how to even start a relationship. 
> 
> Plus the new sim model, Tom, was just his type, if a little uncomfortably realistic. So realistic that sometimes Harry thought he could see Tom out of the corner of his eye in the real world. A flicker on television screens, a familiar face in a crowd of strangers, a shadow in his apartment. That was just his imagination though. Tom wasn't real.
> 
> (Yet.)

“And it isn’t, you know, pathetic?” Harry asks one day as he paces across Ron and Hermione’s kitchen, wringing his hands. “Because it feels a little pathetic.”

“Not at all,” Hermione hurries to tell him, reassuring.

At the same time, Ron laughs and says, “Oh, it’s pathetic.” Hermione uses her folder to smack him on the shoulder, and he winces. “I mean, why would it be pathetic? Loads of people are doing it, aren't they?” 

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry says with a snort. “That makes me feel so much better.”

This is how it starts.

“—and anyway, you know how I get about dating, so Hermione suggested I give this virtual thing a try,” Harry explains to Ginny next time he sees her. 

Ginny doesn’t appear convinced. “Is it safe?” she asks, skeptical. 

“I think so.” Harry reaches for the folder of print-outs Hermione gave to him when she first explained her idea. At least one of them should have the information about security on it. “As long as I don’t give too much personal information away, Hermione said I should be fine.” 

“Huh.” Ginny accepts the hand-out, skimming over it. “Well, if you think it will help.”

“I do,” Harry says, and he hopes he sounds more sure than he feels. “This is supposed to be the best dating sim on the market. All the reviews say it’s very lifelike.”

Ginny does a remarkable job of hiding her distaste, but Harry has known her too long.

“Alright,” Harry says, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just.” Ginny hesitates. Then, in a rush, she says, “I never told anyone, but I tried one of these things a few years ago, and it was a little… creepy.” 

“Well—”

“You know how magic gets when you mix it with technology, Harry. Didn’t you spend an entire month hunting down a sentient computer?”

Harry groans at the memory. 

He refused to touch his phone for weeks, after. It drove his friends mad. 

“Okay, yes, that’s a good point,” he says. “But this is just a simulation. There’s nothing to corrupt or grow a brain out of.”

Ginny purses her lips. “Alright,” she says. Then, she pokes her finger to his chest. “But you need to keep me updated, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry says, and that’s the last they say of it. 

The sim model is… startling. 

For a moment, Harry only stares, wondering if legilimency was involved, because the man who has been created is exactly his type. No questionnaire can be this good.

“Hello, Harry Potter,” he says, voice smooth. He grins, and his teeth practically sparkle. “My name is Tom.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Tom,” Harry says faintly. 

He swallows, just a little bit uncomfortable, and Tom’s gaze tracks the motion of his throat. His eyes narrow, almost imperceptibly. “Am I your first sim?” Tom asks. 

“Yes,” Harry says, glad that Tom is taking the lead. 

Tom looks pleased. “Well, then,” he says, and his dark eyes gleam, “let us begin.”

For a while, everything goes well. 

The more time he spends with Tom, the easier it is to relax, and when he thinks about doing this for real, of asking people out and going on dates, the usual nerves are nowhere to be found. 

It’s working. 

“Are you happy, Harry?” Tom asks him one day.

“Am I—” He blinks, startled. Tom has never asked him this before. “I suppose. Why do you ask?”

“I’m curious,” Tom says, leaning forward. He reaches across the table, takes Harry’s hand. For a simulation, he feels remarkably solid. “And besides, isn’t this my purpose? To make you happy?”

“Well—” Harry pauses, biting his lip. Tom isn’t real, he knows, but it still feels rude to tell him that Harry is only here so he can eventually date someone else, someone _real_ . “I don’t know. What do _you_ think your purpose is?”

Tom hums in thought, tracing one finger across the back of Harry’s hand. Around them, the image of the coffee shop shivers, just a little. 

Once the sim has settled again, Tom smiles and says, “To be with you.”

He lifts Harry’s hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles, and although he feels a sudden, absurd urge to pull his hand away, Harry lets him.

The first time he sees Tom outside the simulation, he almost crashes his bike. 

His heart racing, Harry looks over his shoulder, but nothing is there. The table outside the café is empty. With a huff, he shakes his head and pushes off the pavement. 

He’s overworked, he tells himself; he’s tired. Ten hours of reading over old cases can do that to a person.

He needs more sleep, that’s all.

Only, it keeps happening.

One day, he sees Tom’s face in a crowded room. When he turns his head, he sees someone else.

The next, he hears Tom’s voice call his name, though he could have sworn he was alone. 

He’s starting to think that maybe he shouldn’t use the sim again.

Then, one night, Tom invades his dreams.

The first thing he notices is how dark it is. And then—“Did I do something wrong?” Tom’s voice asks. 

Harry whirls to face him, but he can’t see anything in the darkness. “Tom?” he asks, hesitant. 

Footsteps, then. 

A hand against the back of his neck. “You’ve been avoiding me, Harry,” Tom says, and he sounds hurt. 

Harry is no stranger to odd dreams, but this one is different. Unnatural. “What is this?” 

“You don’t talk to me anymore.” He thinks Tom sounds angry.

Well, Harry is angry too.

“You’ve been following me,” he accuses. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Forgive me if I don’t want to speak to the man who’s been stalking me.”

“But I _told_ you, Harry." One arm wraps around his waist, and he feels Tom’s chest press against his back. Harry clenches his eyes shut, as if that might do anything at all. “I was made to be _with_ you.”

“You're a simulation,” Harry says, voice firm. "You're nothing, and I don't want you."

Tom smiles, then, enough that Harry feels the press of teeth against his cheek, and says, “Liar.”

In the morning, Harry takes the sim’s console, and he shatters it it. He stuffs the pieces in a bag and dumps them into the Ministry’s incinerator, which is specially designed to purity all metal that has been imbued with magic. He stands there, and he watches as the sim’s spells, its very essence, bleed into the flames. 

There is a part of him that will miss Tom, he thinks. That will miss the ease of speaking to him. 

But even more, he feels as if he can finally breathe again, as if a weight he hadn’t even notice has been lifted from his shoulders. 

  
  
  


That night, he sleeps easy for the first time in months. He doesn’t dream.

And in the corner of the room, tucked beneath the wardrobe, there is a shadow that doesn’t belong.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Fact: the title is from one of the most ridiculous songs i've ever heard, which a friend of mine sang to me _at least_ once per week all throughout high school


End file.
